


Someone Will Fall

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Apocalypse, Character Death, Depressing, End of Days, Episode Related, Episode Tag, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Minor Injuries, Murder, Post Magnum Opus, Serious Injuries, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone will fall.</p><hr/><p>Inspired by the teaser trailer that says 'Someone Will Fall'. (Fall Finale, Part Two.)</p><p>Different drabbles focussing on how the season finale part two could go down with the idea of a death in the show being forthcoming. Basically, different oneshots highlighting how each of the characters could potentially die and the reactions to their deaths. (Morbid much?) Rated M for the character deaths and angst, also gore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Will Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, morbid! I was determined to get my take out there on how the characters could get killed/reactions/etc before the episode aired on Monday. Granted, I don't really put much stock into the teaser trailers saying dramatic things because they like to twist things around to trick us, but... the trumpet has sounded for Team Witness and the world. Who knows?
> 
> I'm sorry. Really. x'D 
> 
> I do not own _Sleepy Hollow_. Thanks for reading!

**Katrina**

Ichabod is a mess.

And not just because of the blood oozing from the wide gash stretching from shoulder to mid-ribcage, staining his coat a mottled mixture of red from his blood and brown from the fabric. It's not the scratches on his face or the limp he'd walked with to the car.

Abbie's more worried about Ichabod's silence.

Because not ten minutes ago, he was on the forest floor, holding his wife's limp body in his arms, sobbing. Literally _sobbing_. Abbie isn't sure she's ever heard anyone _really_ sob, and it hurts all the more because it's Ichabod. Strong, versatile, adaptable, sweet, loving Ichabod.

Ichabod stares out the window of Abbie's car. He doesn't say anything, but Abbie can hear whistling as he breathes, partial bloody nose and partial stuffy nose, or an occasional sniff.

Abbie doesn't know what to say, either.

Neither do Jenny, Irving, or Nick, all three of them crammed into the back of her car.

The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.

Abbie doesn't know what to say, so she doesn't say anything. She just focuses on getting them all to the hospital as soon as possible; they all have injuries from their fight with Moloch and the Horsemen (three now).

Jenny runs ahead to get a wheelchair for Irving, who most likely has a broken leg. Nick follows her in, seeming unharmed but grimacing nonetheless.

When they've all gone in, Ichabod flings his car door open to get out. Abbie hastens to follow his example and has to practically jog to catch up with his long-legged strides.

She still doesn't say anything, just grabs at his shoulder and spins him around to give him the much needed hug.

Ichabod falls apart again, dissolving into heart-wrenching tears. He curls around her for their height difference and buries his face against her neck and hangs onto her tightly.

Abbie holds him close, closes her eyes. The road ahead is more bleak than usual.

 

** Jenny **

"Jenny!" Abbie scrambles up, only to lose her footing again on the blood and ichor staining the grass. "Jenny!"

Not Jenny. Not her sister. She is the _only_ one that Abbie has left. Well, that isn't true. She has Crane, and she has Irving, and Nick and Luke and Andy, maybe, somewhere, but Jenny is _her sister_.

" _Jenny!_ "

Something catches her around the shoulders; out of pure instinct, she struggles wildly, landing a blow, flesh-against-flesh-

" _Abbie_ , stop!"

It takes her too long to realize that Ichabod has ahold of her, but it doesn't stop her struggling. He had the advantage just by size, and Abbie can't think about her training on how to get away from someone bigger who had you from behind. All she can think about is

"No, no, no, no, no, Jenny! Jenny!!"

She continues to struggle and lands another blow, hearing the _whoosh_ of breath behind her simultaneously. She must have gotten him in the chest. His grip loosens and Abbie wrenches free, darting across their battleground to get to where her sister's body had fallen after the Horsemen had cut off her-

"Abbie!"

Ichabod catches her wrist again; this time when she struggles, she stumbles and she would have ended up flat on her ass if it isn't for Crane catching her before she could fall.

"Abbie, Abbie, stop. Stop," Ichabod mutters, over and over, his voice soft and gentle but brooking no argument.

But she's Abbie Mills. And that was her sister. And she is damn well going to argue.

If she weren't so exhausted. "Jenny," she repeats. And then again, weaker, and she feels herself go limp in Ichabod's arms, and she passes out before she can even tell Crane to let her go see her sister.

 

**Irving**

"This is my choice, Abbie."

"Frank, get the hell out of there!" Abbie demands, but it feels like it's lost to the wind whipping around them. She struggles against the tree roots keeping her captive against the tree itself. One of the roots wrap around her neck and she exhales in surprise, trying not to panic.

"Stop panicking!" Ichabod says quickly. "If you struggle, it'll kill you."

Abbie forces herself to stop moving. Her skin _crawls_. Irving's trying to sacrifice himself. Making a deal with Moloch.

"He already has my soul," Irving calls over the din. "If I can protect you three for only this time being..."

"Don't be an idiot!" Jenny yells. "You've got Cynthia and Macey, Frank, don't throw that away!"

"I'm doing this for them," Irving replies. He sounds so calm. Abbie wonders if that's resolution or hopelessness that eggs him on. She envies his resolve, but...

Moloch chants in some strange language that Abbie can't understand. Her panic swells. She can't let him go through with this, not Irving. Just because he was willing to give up everything didn't mean that he was _supposed_ to.

"Frank!" she yells again. There is nothing she can do. The abject desolation hits upon her full force. "Son of a bitch!"

Ichabod looks at her sharply, but then back at Irving and Moloch. "Captain, I implore that you-"

"Whatever you say, Crane, it isn't going to work," Frank says calmly. "I'm sorry..." He looks over his shoulder. His face is set. His eyes are gleaming. "Tell them I love them."

"Frank!"

There's a sudden flash of darkness. It's blinding by its own right; Abbie can't see a thing. When the disperses in a puff of red, only the fire in front of them remains. Moloch is gone, and so is Frank.

The roots around her body release and Abbie collapses to the ground. From the thumps around her, Crane, Jenny, and Nick (who had previously been beaten into an unconscious submission) hit the ground as well.

Abbie wants to jump up and search for Irving, but she just _knows_ that he's gone. Moloch had taken him, sacrificed him, and for what purpose? Abbie is sure that Moloch will be back for them shortly.

She should be depressed beyond words, and maybe a part of her is. Or will be later. Right now?

She just wants to scream.

 

**Hawley**

Abbie squares her shoulder and wills herself not to close her eyes. If she's going to die, she's going to go down staring at the Horseman.

Everything around her seems to be going in slow motion. That's a cliché, she knows, but it's really true. She can see Ichabod struggling with Henry and his magic, Jenny fighting in perfect synchronization with Famine. Ichabod glances over Henry's shoulder and Abbie meets his gaze, only for a half second with a wry, final smile, long enough to watch the alarm blossom and bloom in his icy blue eyes.

Death pulls the trigger. Abbie sucks in a deep breath-

\- but the pain doesn't come. Instead, there's a gasp and a thud and Abbie can barely register that _Hawley_ just threw himself in front of her.

"... Hawley!" She drops to her knees, Horseman forgotten.

In a moment, it doesn't matter, because there's a strange sort of shimmer and everything around her just freezes. But Hawley's still moving and breathing and bleeding and Abbie forgets about whatever the hell is happening.

"We don't have much time!" That's Katrina's voice. Abbie doesn't know where she came from or when the hell she got there, but she apparently has the ability to distort time with her witchy powers. "I can give you a few minutes to regroup!"

"Lieutenant-" Ichabod spins around and then stops abruptly.

Abbie doesn't pay attention to him. She presses her hand against the gunshot wound against Nick's chest. "No, no. Nick, hey, Nick. Look at me. _Hawley_!"

"Nick!" Jenny exclaims, joining Abbie by sinking down next to Hawley.

"Sorry," Hawley coughs, coughing up blood. "Had to make a... dramatic exit."

Abbie would have rolled her eyes if the circumstances were different. "Why the hell..." she trails off, because she knows the answer: _because he loves her_.

Jenny looks around. "I heard Katrina, where is she? Can't she, I don't know, heal him or something?"

Ichabod shakes his head slowly, eyes locked on Hawley. "Katrina's not here, she's... still in the manor..."

Hawley catches his gaze and laughs, which huffs off into a bloody cough. "... You finally get your wish... you get rid of me."

Ichabod blinks slowly and sweeps his coat out of the way to crouch down next to Hawley, gripping his shoulder. "That was never my desire, Mr. Hawley. Do not misunderstand." He frowns. "I made a grave error in assessing your personality. Forgive me."

Hawley actually looks shocked before he sighs. "Damn. Now even you like me. Just can't keep them away..." His eyes slip closed.

"No, Hawley, don't fall asleep. Hawley." Abbie shakes him slightly. On a whim, she leans down to press her lips against his forehead. "Hey. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Hawley doesn't say anything else, but Abbie's fairly sure that there's a smile on his lips as the last breath goes out of him.

She looks at Ichabod and Jenny, and Jenny looks like she's fighting tears and Ichabod has this strange look on his face and Abbie can see what she feels in all of their eyes: shock. Just shock.

The world around them splinters with a warning cry from Katrina and, abruptly, they're all back in the midst of the battle they were fighting.

 

**Henry**

"Which one will you choose?"

Abbie glares at the cold bite of the gun against her temple. The leaves and twigs dig into her kneecaps, ice seeping into her skin and chilling her to her core.

" _Kill him_ ," Abbie hisses, with much more determination than she thought she would have been capable of with a gun against her head, arms bound behind her back, and her ankles cuffed together. "Ichabod," she says warningly. " _Kill_ him."

Ichabod was wavering. His hand was shaking; Abbie could see it in his gun, every so often, a slight tremor that was his nerves getting the better of him. Abbie had always thought he looked a bit odd with a gun, but he had grown into it. Killing someone on the line of duty was scarring enough; killing your son on the line of duty was unimaginable. Abbie understood. She really did.

But they had had this conversation time and time again. She knew that Ichabod wanted to see good in Henry, but... how many times?

"Ichabod!" she snaps. "This is the fate of the world, damn it-" Henry slaps her. She nearly falls over from not only the impact, but the shock.

Ichabod steps forward, fumbling with the gun. "Stop it!"

"You would pick this woman over your own son?" Henry asks pleasantly. "Well, I suppose it's to be expected..." He looks down at Abbie. "Old habits die hard and all."

Abbie blanches as Henry strokes her cheek, faux-lovingly, like a father to a child. If he comes any closer with his fingers, she's going to bite him. She is definitely going to bite him.

" _Stop_ it," Ichabod repeats. His voice sounds a little different.

Abbie's too busy plotting to pay attention. Ichabod isn't going to do anything, and she's not blaming him or anything, but-

"Pity," Henry says.

And then suddenly it's a flurry of motion; he leans over and picks up the gun that he'd dropped and swivels it around to Abbie's forehead and Abbie freezes and then there's a loud _bang_.

She screams out of reflex, but there's no pain. Instead, when she opens her eyes again, Ichabod's halfway between her and where he was, his eyes wide and frozen to the spot.

... He'd really shot him.

"Crane," she mutters. And then "Crane!" louder, because he fails to look at her the first time. He startles and glances towards her then. "A little help?"

Ichabod blinks rapidly and clears the distance between them, kneeling next to her to cut through the ropes with his knife.

As soon as she's free, she reaches out to pry the gun from his fingers. He still hasn't let it go, and he's shaking so hard that Abbie fears he might accidentally shoot someone else, himself included. But he doesn't let go.

"Crane," she mutters, trying to get to the safety as carefully as possible, trying not to spook him. "Give me the gun."

He's still got that wild-eyed look about him, but he looks away from Henry and looks at her almost like he's confused.

"Ichabod," she says softly, wrapping her fingers around his hand. "Give me the gun."

Ichabod blinks again and then inhales suddenly, dropping the gun. He pulls away and falls onto his backside and hands, looking ever the more bewildered.

Abbie's sure that the denial and shock will come soon, but for now she lets out a breath and makes sure to keep the gun away from him.

 

**Abraham**

Abbie turns around in time to see Ichabod lunge forward with the sword. It's a clean shot, even Abbie can see, and it pierces through Abraham's chest with no resistance.

Abraham doesn't look surprised. He doesn't look anything, really. He's had that look on his face ever since she had saw him next to the bonfire after she and Ichabod had gotten the sword. She isn't sure what it is, but it isn't the beaming pride of _Moloch has called me, the End of Days has begun! This is my purpose!_. Just... nothing.

Abbie wonders what caused the change. She worries a little that it has something to do with Katrina, but she doesn't have time to focus on where Crane's wife is right now. Later.

Ichabod, on the other hand, does have emotion on his face. There's anger, just pure anger. Abbie doesn't know what they're talking about. She hasn't been able to stand by and listen to them, but she had seen the moment when Ichabod's flip was switched. She had been witnessing the Ichabod from the battlefield.

She still is, in fact.

Ichabod pulls the blade free and steps back, poising it again to parry a blow if necessary. There's a little bit of anguish in his eyes, something that neither her or Abraham is supposed to see. She knows that Ichabod cares more for Abraham, even now, than he will admit to. She also knows that he knows that this is necessity.

... Grief will come later.

Abbie is sure that Ichabod will be the one to dig a grave and bury Van Brunt's body, no matter their differences.

Abraham falls back and doesn't move to get up. Ichabod lowers the sword slightly, glaring down at Abraham. Then, he stabs his sword into the earth, turns on his heel, and strides towards Abbie.

"Let's go," he says bluntly, and walks by without even looking at her.

Abbie sighs quietly. God rest their souls. All of _them_.

 

** Ichabod & Abbie **

Abbie tries to jerk away from Moloch as he grips her bleeding hand. She cannot.

Ichabod struggles all the same, vain in all his troubles. He's deathly pale, the blood on his face, and more prominently the rivers winding down his arm from where the symbol had been carved into his palm like hers, a stark contrast to his pallor. If Abbie wasn't already worried, she would be now.

She doesn't know Moloch's game, but she knows the end. The symbol that was carved on her palm, the same on Ichabod's, definitely isn't just a simple case of bloodletting. (Simple?)

Moloch presses their bleeding hands together. The pain that shoots through her is so intense. She screams but doesn't hear it; she's briefly aware that Ichabod's in agony, too, but all she can see are pictures that she doesn't recognize and words that she can't understand. It sounds like a chant, a song, excitement, and terrible mourning all in one. Rebirth and death alike, filling her up with sound and scent and sensation.

When she passes out, it's for the better.

When she opens her eyes again, it's to a bright white light. Her first thought is _so, this is Heaven_ , with is pretty stupid, because she's sure that the Beast isn't going to rise up and take the two Witnesses to Heaven.

No, she's in a hospital. It takes her a minute, but the sterile smell and the beeping around her soon paint the picture. She glances around slowly, pounding inside her head and anguish throughout her bones.

It goes away when she sees Ichabod in the second bed in the room. He's hooked up to monitors and wires that rival Abbie's, one arm resting on the blankets with the pulse monitor on his finger, the other folded across his chest.

As Abbie watches, Ichabod tilts his head and opens his eyes.

"... Lieutenant," he says thickly.

"Crane." In that moment, she wishes that she weren't tied down by machinery. Nothing can be so important that it stops her from getting from bed and embracing the man she had thought she was dying next to.

But it filters away, replaced by rationale rather than emotion. "What happened...?" she asks hesitantly. She can remember Moloch, and darkness, and the pain and blood from the symbol on her hand. She wearily looks towards her hand; it's wrapped in thick, white gauze.

"I'm not sure that I know any more than you," Ichabod mumbles. He sounds exhausted. "There was everything, and then nothing."

"... Did we stop the Apocalypse?" Abbie asks hesitantly. "... Or did we help its arrival?"

"I do not know," Ichabod mutters. His eyes dip closed and then open again. "Our blood..."

Abbie doesn't want to think about it. "I don't know." She shivers.

"... I realize... perhaps," Ichabod mumbles, "this is part of the prophecy, in which case, you should have no more interaction with me... lest I give your soul to Moloch."

Abbie opens her mouth to argue, but doesn't get the chance.

"But I wish only to be nearer you, not further away."

"We do this together," Abbie vows. It's a painstaking process, but she manages to stretch her arm out towards him. Her palm burns, throbbing like a heartbeat under her skin. "Together, or not at all."

Ichabod looks at her for a long moment before reaching out to take her hand. A jolt goes through Abbie's body, similar to what she'd think being struck by lightning would feel like, and judging Ichabod's quickness to try and pull away, he's felt it, too.

Abbie doesn't let him pull away. She doesn't have much grip from the gauze, but she manages to get a hold of his hand before he can move.

Ichabod closes his eyes roughly and then opens them, smiling weakly.

Abbie smiles back wearily.

If they doubted each other, or theirselves, they would be conquered. Divided, they would fall. Together, they will stand.


End file.
